“We should go,” Lana said, jiggling the keys in her hand.
“Not yet,” Vincent said in a dark voice as he studied the empty house.
“But there’s no one here, and we can’t hang around waiting. It’s only a matter of time—”
A deep rumbling noise cut her off. She felt the first shiver of movement beneath her feet and glanced around nervously. Lana had lived through an earthquake once, during a visit to her mother in California. Everyone out there had assured her that, since it was only 3.9 on the Richter scale, it barely qualified as an event. But she remembered that deep rumble of sound and the awful sensation of feeling the earth moving beneath her feet.
“Earthquake,” she breathed. She grabbed for Vincent’s arm, but froze at the sight of him staring intently at the house, eyes half-lidded, lips pulled back in a snarl that exposed his gleaming fangs.
“Vincent?” she whispered, then spun, scanning the neighborhood, ready to confront whatever threat they faced and finding nothing, only to jerk back around in shock as Reyes’s small house shivered on its foundation and the air grew thick with dust. The shivering became a vicious shaking. Cracks spread like a spider’s web along the exterior walls, and the sound of breaking wood and shattering glass told the story of what was happening inside. The porch light burst with a sharp pop and Lana covered her eyes to protect them from any tiny pieces of glass flying incredible distances through the sudden darkness. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the mini Maglite and switched it on just in time to see Reyes’s wooden front door split down the middle as broken tiles showered from the rooftop. Seconds later, the exterior walls buckled completely and the structure gave way, until, with a final crash of cracking stucco and splintering wood, the entire house folded in on itself.
Silence settled over the night. A cloud of dust and dirt drifted slowly over the remaining pile of debris. No one but the neighborhood dogs seemed troubled by what had happened—no doors opened, no people emerged to exclaim over the abrupt implosion of their neighbor’s home.
Lana frowned, turning a full circle to study the undisturbed neighborhood.
“What did you do?” she asked Vincent softly, her eyes still on the quiet houses. She felt more than saw him look down at her.
“I left her and this entire town a warning,” he said, and there was such arrogance in his usually friendly voice that she twisted to stare at him.
“Are they still alive?” she breathed.
Vincent frowned. “Is who still alive? There was no one in the house. I told you that.”
“I mean the rest of these people, her neighbors.”
He gave her a disbelieving look. “What the fuck, Lana? Of course, they are.”
“Then why—” She swallowed on a dry throat. “Why didn’t anybody—”
“Because I contained the sound. Because you’re so all fired up to make a discreet getaway. Jesus, you think I killed all those people? What kind of monster do you think I am?”
Lana studied the destroyed house and realized that for all the noise it had made, it hadn’t been as loud as it should have been. Maybe it was only because she’d been watching it happen that it had seemed so much louder.
She looked up at Vincent in dismay. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
But he was already turning away. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had more than enough of this town. Give me the keys.” He held out his hand in impatient demand.
“Vincent, I’m sorry,” she repeated, handing over his keys.
“Fine.” He took them from her and headed around the SUV. “Jerry,” he snapped. “In the SUV.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jerry climbed into the back and Lana slid quickly into the passenger seat, worried that Vincent might just be angry enough to leave without her. He jammed the SUV into gear and took off, tires spitting gravel as she pulled her seatbelt down and clicked it into place. She cut a few sideways glances at Vincent, but he ignored her. It wasn’t until he’d taken them back to the main highway and turned south toward Pénjamo once again that he spoke at all, and then it was only to call Michael, using the in-dash speakerphone.
“Good evening, Sire,” she heard Michael say.
“Michael, have the jet prepped for tomorrow night. I need you in Pénjamo.”
“Yes, my lord. Should I bring—?”
“Some muscle, I’ll leave the specifics up to you, and a daylight crew. We have some business locally, but after that you’ll be taking a pair of baby—” He glanced in the mirror at Jerry and changed what he’d been about to say. “—young vamps back to Hermosillo. Enrique’s doing things he shouldn’t. No surprise there, but this is low even for him. I’ll provide details when I see you.”
“Right. Shall I call when we arrive?”
“That’d be good. Anything else to report?”
“Nada, jefe. Club repairs are proceeding nicely.”